GOOD COMPANY

GOOD COMPANY; Raising a Creative Ruckus by the Shore

By BOB MORRIS

Published: April 7, 2002

LAST Saturday night, in a tiny cabin on the western shore of Maryland's Chesapeake Bay, Linda Hesh, an artist, jeweler and passionate party-giver with a very loud voice, was getting ready for Easter dinner for 10. Her husband, Eric Margry, a jewelry engraver, and four weekend guests, all men, from New York City and Washington, were helping out, making Easter baskets and goody bags and decorating cookies.

''We drove down here from D.C. to relax,'' said one of the men. ''But that won't happen until Linda goes to bed.'' Ms. Hesh, 49, raised an eyebrow as she surveyed his handiwork.

''This cookie here could use more stripes,'' she said.

Later, when she was encouraging guests to practice songs for the next day's neighborhood Easter parade (she was organizing it), a neighbor stopped by.

Forget the effortless ease of parties seen in magazines, or in tasteful minimalist homes with help. And while you're at it, forget Pearl Mesta's politically potent parties of the past or the socially competitive and agenda-laden parties that Sally Quinn gives in Washington today.

Here's a hostess who has no intention of appearing to be relaxed and no agenda other than to blow a few minds with a creative ruckus. And since entertaining, for Ms. Hesh, means being entertained, she expects her guests to do their part. They're delighted to comply, given how she pushes them to their creative limits while providing the kind of fun most hosts would not attempt in their own homes.

''If I give a party, you have to do what I want you to do,'' she said. ''I mean, what's worse than people who show up for a costume party in no costume?''

When she gave a ''Come as your favorite nativity character'' party three years ago, in her home just outside Washington, you were expected to dress up or be undressed and redressed at the door. It was the same at the ''Midsummer Night's Dream'' engagement party she gave for friends, when lingerie or pajamas were required.

''Disco dancing in the kiddy pool was also encouraged,'' Ms. Hesh said.

Perhaps this urge to inspire guests comes from growing up over a bar and restaurant in Chicago owned by her father. Maybe it is from a sophisticated mother, who used to give wild parties. Maybe it's because she and Mr. Margry have no children, or because she's more devoted to friends than family. For whatever reason, Ms. Hesh sees party-giving as a highly creative outlet.

Her wedding to Mr. Margry in TriBeCa 13 years ago, when she lived in Little Italy, featured a ring-bearer on a unicycle and a game of musical chairs. Guests played along happily, just as they did last summer at her cabin, when they wore wigs for a Wigstock party in honor of the Labor Day drag festival in New York.

Ms. Hesh appreciates when her guests play along. It's much the way the Duchess of Windsor saw it. ''When you accept a dinner invitation,'' she once said, ''you have a moral obligation to be amusing.''

To that end, Ms. Hesh's guests fulfilled their obligation on Easter. The first to arrive from Washington came with two Dobermans bundled in necklaces, Coco Chanel style. ''Linda said I could bring the dogs, but only if I dressed them up,'' their owner said.

At 2 p.m., Ms. Hesh joined some neighbors by the beach. She had invited them to her parade (hats essential), and distributed lyrics, kazoos, whistles and cymbals. Soon, she was leading the group past tasteful homes, singing ''Let's All Sing Like the Birdies Sing,'' and raising eyebrows along the way with her ritual of excess and rebirth. One bystander, observing from his driveway in a blue blazer, had a one-word response: ''Huh.''

Back at the cabin (called Cabin Fever and designed in a medical-chic style with X-ray art, beaker cocktail glasses, test-tube vases and a gynecologist's table for a dresser), Ms. Hesh made pink smoothies and heated a vegetarian pizza rustica. Downstairs, her guests decorated eggs while shrieking like kids at a birthday party.

''There really should be some children at this event,'' one guest said.

''Kids would just mess all this up,'' said another.

After sunset, Ms. Hesh served a pretty, easy-to-make dinner. ''This is food for color, not thought,'' she said. The tomato-orange tomato soup was bright, the grilled vegetables motley, and an angel food cake dressed with raspberry-mango coulis and jelly beans practically a hallucination.

So was the impromptu show one guest was inspired to give after dessert. She took two Peeps -- marshmallow chicks -- and, after biting their heads off, stuck them to herself, stripper-style. ''It's a Peep show,'' one guest observed. Ms. Hesh was especially pleased with the performance.

By 9 o'clock she was leaving her cabin to join some neighbors to watch ''Six Feet Under'' on HBO. She looked spent.

''Another holiday dinner over, thank God,'' she said. It was time to let the TV do the entertaining.

1 9- or 10-inch angel food cake (purchased from a bakery or supermarket)

1 1/2 cups fresh pineapple chunks

Lightly sweetened whipped cream (canned or homemade)

1 cup all-natural jelly beans

Vanilla bean ice cream.

1. Combine the raspberry and mango purées, and mix well. Using a double-boiler or microwave oven, melt together the butter and chocolate. Mix well and transfer to a serving dish.

2. Place the cake on a platter and fill the center hole with pineapple chunks. Drizzle some of the fruit purée over the cake and place the rest in a bowl to serve separately. Squirt or spoon puffs of whipped cream on top of the cake. Sprinkle jelly beans on and around the cake. To serve, place a slice of cake and some pineapple on a plate and garnish with a scoop or two of ice cream. Pass chocolate sauce and fruit purée separately.

Yield: 1 cake (10 to 12 servings).

Photos: It isn't Fifth Avenue, but it's a fashionable Easter parade just the same. Linda Hesh, second from right, leads her guests and neighbors in song. Soup's on -- tomato orange, that is. Food for color, not thought: a quick, creative dessert. (Photographs by Marty Katz for The New York Times)